


Ghost in the Machine

by twilights_blue



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: AU, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-18
Updated: 2011-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilights_blue/pseuds/twilights_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames gets the chance to research dreamshare aboard the <em>Inception</em>, a ship orbiting an alien planet. While he's there he meets Arthur, the organic computer interface for the entire ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost in the Machine

When Eames stepped off the shuttle and into the ship, he saw that three people were waiting to greet him. One was a lovely, willowy brunette with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. The man next to her was a rather solemn blond, who looked Eames over with narrowed eyes. Behind the pair was another man, dark haired and slim, looking sharp and efficient in a suit. He was attractive, Eames noted as he looked the man over, but there was something odd about him that he couldn't quite place.

Curious but keeping it to himself, Eames smiled at the trio. "I didn't realize my arrival deserved a welcoming committee," he commented, dropping his bags so that he could offer his hand to shake.

The woman gave him a brilliant smile, taking his hand in a light but firm grip. "We have heard about your research," she said, her lilting accent marking her as French. "Seeing as what your theories describe is extraordinary, we believed that a bit of a welcome was in order."

"Hopefully you'll be able to garner some good results while you're here," the man beside her interjected, shaking Eames' hand in turn. "I'm Dom, by the way, and this is my wife, Mal."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Eames said, and he meant it. Dominic and Mallorie Cobb were well known for their research of the species known as the Bulsomn, which were known for their ability to walk through each other's dreams. The Cobbs had been the ones to discover that the ability could be used on humans as well, and they had been running experiments ever since, orbiting the Bulsomn home planet so as to stay close to their research subjects. When Eames had received an invitation to try out his own research aboard the _Inception_ , he had practically jumped for joy.

Dom nodded in acknowledgement before turning to the man standing behind them. "This is Arthur, our interface. Mal and I thought it would be better for you two to get acquainted now instead of later."

Eames, who was offering his hand to Arthur, froze for the briefest moment. As he lowered his hand, he took a closer look at the man before him. He looked as normal as anyone else, but Eames quickly picked out the faint blurring around Arthur's outline, the nearly lightning-quick flickers about his frame. While Arthur was a well-developed hologram, it was still rather obvious that he, well, wasn't real.

"I didn't know that you were still using a human interface," Eames said, covering his surprise with light interest.

"I volunteered for the procedure," Arthur said, face and voice betraying nothing. "Dom and Mal's research requires a more…human touch."

"We tried the advanced AI systems," Mal explained, "but none of them were able to fully grasp our newfound concepts about the subconscious. We've discovered that an amplified human brain has a much higher success rate." She smiled at the interface. "Arthur has been quite helpful with our research."

Arthur smiled back, fondness clear despite the barely-visible curve of his lips. "I only organized your data," he demurred, "all of your discoveries were your own."

"Such a modest thing," Mal murmured to Eames. "He really did help immensely, don't let him say otherwise."

If Eames didn't know any better, the comment made Arthur _blush_. Could an interface show that sort of range of emotion? Eames wasn't sure, but then again, he had more experience dealing with AI interfaces than human ones. Perhaps the rules were different with a human hooked up to the system.

Dom cleared his throat, bringing everyone's attention back to him. "Well, now that we're all introduced, maybe you'd like a tour of the rest of the ship?"

"Yes," Mal said, tugging Eames past Arthur and through the hangar. "You have to see our labs, and meet the rest of the crew, and then we can settle you into your rooms…"

As she continued to lead Eames away, Dom trailing behind them, Eames took one look back into the hangar. Arthur was still there, watching them leave. He locked eyes with Eames, before his image flickered and winked out of existence.

~*

"May I ask you something?"

Eames jumped, nearly dropping his book. The ship's small lounge had been empty, which was why Eames had chosen to do some light reading there. He hadn't planned, however, for Arthur to suddenly pop out of nowhere and decide to be social.

"Sure," Eames said once he had settled down a little. "What would you like to know?"

"I've been over your research a few times, but I haven't been able to fully grasp it." Arthur's brow was furrowed a little, as if it pained him to admit a lapse in knowledge. "Is it truly possible to change your appearance within the dreamscape?"

"Theoretically, yes." Eames leaned back in his seat, taking on the pose he usually used when beginning to talk about part of his work. "If it's possible to change the physical surroundings of a dream, then what's stopping us from changing ourselves? Dom and Mal have noted that their clothing will automatically change to match the context of the dream, so why can't the rest of us also change?" He shrugged. "A lot of my research right now is guesswork, but I'm hoping that I'll get a few more concrete answers when I actually go down into a dream."

"You'll have to tell me if it works, once you've done it," Arthur said. "It'll be a rather interesting breakthrough for the Cobbs' work."

"Why not come under with us, see for your—" Eames stopped short, suddenly remembering that the man he was talking to didn't exactly have the freedom that other humans enjoyed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Arthur shook his head. "It's alright," he said. "It happens a lot, surprisingly. People forget that I'm not actually here, but somewhere else in the ship."

"It must be lonely."

Eames knew it was the wrong thing to say when he saw the way Arthur's eyes narrowed. "I don't need your pity, Mr. Eames," the interface said shortly. "Good night."

The hologram flickered out before Eames could even apologize. Sighing, Eames rubbed a hand over his face. Now Arthur thought he was the type who couldn't handle interacting with a human interface. What a wonderful first impression.

Logically, Eames knew that he really shouldn't care about his first impressions with a man who had willingly hooked himself up as the ship's main computer. Still, he had noticed Arthur's attractiveness, and he couldn't help but want to make some sort of connection with him.

Maybe if he turned on the charm, Arthur would notice. Eames snorted, smiling faintly. Arthur would most likely notice and simply shoot him down as thoroughly as he could. Right now, though, Eames would settle with getting onto good terms with the interface. Perhaps he could try to prove that their first real conversation had been misleading, and see where that led them.

A weak plan, yes, but it was definitely better than nothing.

~*

The next day, Eames and the Cobbs met up with one of the Bulsomn that had volunteered to help the couple with their research. While Eames was good with names, he knew he was going to have problems the Bulsomn's—it was a long, complicated thing with too many consonants. Antennae waving in amusement, the Bulsomn explained to a bemused-looking Eames that he could call it Tak, if he wished. Eames agreed, with a small measure of relief.

After introductions, the Cobbs ushered everyone into a room attached the lab. There were four reclining chairs set up in a loose square, with a small tray situated next to each one. Arthur was there, standing near a control pad, watching them as they settled into their seats.

"This will just be a brief run," Dom explained to Eames. "We want to get you familiar with the basics before you try any of the stuff you were talking about in your papers."

"I'm sure you'll take to it perfectly," Mal said with a gentle smile. Then, turning to Arthur, she asked, "You have the doses ready?"

Arthur nodded. "There's enough to keep everyone under for fifteen minutes—three hours dream-time."

It was then that Eames noticed the syringes placed on each tray. Picking his up, he noticed the pale yellow liquid inside. "What's this for?"

"It's a sedative called Somnacin," Arthur said, faintly condescending. Eames had the idea that he wasn't able to fully express the entirety of an emotion while acting as an interface. "It also makes you more susceptible to the Bulsomn's telepathy."

"Thank you, Arthur," Eames said, his voice sincere.

"You can always come to me if you have questions," Arthur answered. His tone implied that he expected Eames would need plenty of help.

"Oh, I definitely won't hesitate to ask," Eames said, smirking a little.

Arthur blinked, unsure of how to react to the teasing edge to Eames' voice. He finally turned away, looking flustered with the situation. Eames delighted at his reaction. Perhaps some light teasing was the answer to dealing with Arthur. Perhaps, with enough prodding, the interface would begin to answer back. It would be lovely to have a partner to banter with while he worked here.

"If we're all ready," Mal said, giving Eames an amused glance, "we will go under. Arthur, the timer?"

Arthur tilted his head at the control panel and a timer appeared on its screen. It set itself to fifteen minutes, and the interface nodded to Mal. In response, the Cobbs picked up their syringes and, with practiced movements, injected the sedative into their veins. Eames was a step behind them, and was soon drifting off himself. He was vaguely aware of Arthur staying to watch them, and then he dropped into unconsciousness.

~*

The dreamscape was as amazing as Eames had always (pardon the pun) dreamed it would be. As the Cobbs showed him how to manipulate the dreamscape as he saw fit, he marveled at how easily it was to break the laws of physics in a dream, to do whatever you wished. By the time two and a half hours had passed, he had mastered everything that had been shown to him that day. Now, with only half an hour left, it was time to test out his own theories.

"Do you think you'll actually make any sort of progress today?" Dom asked as Eames summoned up a floor length mirror to stand in front of him. "There's only thirty minutes left on the clock."

"It's enough to at least make some sort of headway," Eames said. He eyed himself in the mirror, wondering what he should try first. With a glance over at Dom, he decided that trying on the other man's skin wouldn't hurt. Shaking out his shoulders, he said, "Here goes nothing."

Eames narrowed his eyes in concentration and focused on the man he was trying to become. He took in the details of Dom's form, from the bitten-down fingernails to the rumpled state of his hair. He then tried to apply them to himself, doing the mental twist that was necessary for shifting the physical dreamscape. Eames felt his entire being shudder, and that was it. There was no change to his reflection.

"Huh." Eames studied his hands, surprised that nothing had happened. His fingernails were now bitten down to the quick, but that was it. Why that part of Dom's image had held and nothing else was a mystery.

The Cobbs were studying him, looking for any sort of change. "Nothing?" Mal asked, looking disappointed.

Eames shook his head. "Nothing notable, at least." He tilted his head, watching his reflection do the same. "Let me try someone else."

This time when he tried, he focused his attention on Mal. Once more, Eames paid attention to the smallest physical details that he could. And, once more, nothing substantial really happened.

"Your hair's darker," Mal commented, watching him. "Who were you trying to be?"

"You," Eames admitted. He tugged on a lock of his darkened hair, before it abruptly shifted back to its lighter shade. "I'm obviously missing some key element here."

"At least we know that it's possible to change part of your features in the dreamscape," Dom said.

Mal nodded. "This could be greatly beneficial to our research."

Eames nodded as well, but he couldn't help but frown. He didn't want to partially prove his theories to be correct. He wanted to change form entirely, walk in other people's skins. Eames knew it could happen—with all that the dreamscape made possible, why not this? The trick would be to find out _how_ to make it possible.

Before he could have another go, however, he felt the dreamscape fade around him. The sedative must have run out. Cursing softly, Eames was quickly pulled back into the waking world.

The moment he was fully conscious, he sat up and looked over at Dom. "I want to go again," he said.

Dom shook his head. "You can only do a run every twelve hours, so that the sedative has time to get out of your system."

"Then I'm going again in twelve hours." Eames stood up, giving both Cobbs a determined look. "I am cracking this, no matter what. I will figure this out."

~*

From that day on, Eames haunted the labs. He would go under for half an hour—the highest dose the Cobbs would let him use on himself—and then spend the next twelve hours trying to figure out what, exactly, he was doing wrong. He was making some progress, and was able to fractionally alter his build and his height, but it wasn't substantial enough to satisfy him. He barely ate, barely slept, throwing himself into his work.

A week after coming aboard the _Inception_ , Eames could feel his frustration levels reaching their breaking point. If he didn't find a way to let off some steam, he was going to explode. Wanting to make sure his temper didn't end up getting him in trouble with the rest of the crew, he asked Ariadne, the Cobbs' bright and cheerful assistant, if the ship had a gym. He had a vague recollection of seeing one during the tour Mal had given him, but he wanted to be sure.

"Yeah, we have a gym," Ariadne said. "Dom likes to make sure we stay in shape, so he insisted on us having one. It's on the floor right above the hangar, you can't miss it."

Thanking Ariadne, Eames went to his room to change into some workout clothes and then made his way down to the gym. As he stepped off the lift and made his way down the corridor, he found Arthur waiting for him in front of the gym's door.

"I have to advise against this," the interface said, even though he showed no sign of worry. "You're exhausted and haven't had a proper meal in days. Physical exertion could make you worse."

Eames quietly watched Arthur, expressionless. The interface had ignored him for the last week, talking to the Cobbs but leaving him alone. Feeling like he was being avoided, the behavior had irked Eames. Now, though, he couldn't see a reason for why Arthur was suddenly talking to him again.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Eames gave Arthur a crooked smile. "I didn't realize my personal health was a concern of yours," he said. "Worried about me, hm?"

"No," Arthur said, voice clipped. "I am simply obligated to look after the wellbeing of every person aboard the _Inception_. It's part of my duties as interface."

"Is it, now? Well, Arthur, you don't have to worry about me." Eames smile broadened into a grin. "I'm in perfect condition, I promise you."

Arthur looked like he was about to argue the point, but after a moment he simply sighed. "Fine. I'll make sure to alert medical staff when you pass out."

"I'm not going to pass out," Eames said, indignant. However, Arthur was already gone, and was obviously unable to hear Eames' retort. With a shake of his head, Eames walked on and entered the gym.

After studying the equipment that was there, Eames considered and then rejected the running machines that lined the far wall. There was a punching bag set up at the other end of the gym, and it was perfect for Eames' needs. A little sparring would definitely help to loosen him up. As he set himself up, he couldn't help but wish that he had a live partner to spar with. Too bad nobody on board seemed to be the fighting type. Clearing his mind of these extra thoughts, Eames narrowed his focus down to the bag and went to work.

A few minutes later, he was beginning to regret his decision. The strength needed for each hit against the punching bag, made him realize just how tired he really was. His limbs were beginning to feel like lead, and he was slowly getting dizzy. Maybe Arthur had been right about him not being in the best condition to exercise. He shakily backed into the nearest wall, sliding down to a sitting position as soon as he could. Eames closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the wall. He'd feel better after five minutes' rest, he was sure of it. Just five minutes.

He was unconscious in two.

~*

When Eames woke up, he found himself staring up at a blank, sterile-looking ceiling. He felt like he had been run over by a truck. With a groan, he brought a hand up to his head and rubbed at his temple.

"You, my friend, are an idiot."

Eames turned his head to find Yusuf, the _Inception_ 's chief medical officer, sitting next to his bed. "What?" he asked, feeling like he was two steps behind in the conversation already.

"Dehydration, exhaustion, and the beginnings of malnutrition—don't deny it; I ran the tests myself. Not to mention the buildup of Somnacin in your system. And, on top of that, you tried to exercise." Yusuf shook his head. "You were simply asking for your body to collapse, the way you were going."

"My work," Eames mumbled. "I needed to work."

Yusuf shook his head once more, looking amused. "As I've told Mal and Dom countless times, your health is more important than your work," he said. "I finally got the Cobbs to realize that last month. I had been hoping that you wouldn't need the same lecture."

Eames suddenly felt sheepish, having wasted the other man's time with his problems. "Sorry," he said.

"Don't say you're sorry. Just don't do it again. Oh, and thank Arthur for alerting me to your situation. He made sure that I got to you within ten minutes of you passing out."

"Really," Eames murmured, surprised. While the interface had mentioned that he would tell Yusuf if anything happened, Eames hadn't really thought that Arthur would react so quickly. Besides, if Arthur had immediately caught on to Eames' collapse, that meant that the interface had been paying close attention, and why would Arthur do that?

Yusuf stood, letting out a small sigh as he did so. "Seeing as you're awake and seem to be doing better, I can get back to the rest of my work. I'm keeping you here overnight, so don't try to leave or anything. I'll check on you in a few hours."

As the medical officer walked away, Eames shifted so that he was staring at the ceiling again. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Arthur had helped him out. The interface may have been obligated to look after his health, but Eames had the sense that Arthur could have waited longer before alerting Yusuf to the situation. So why, exactly, had Arthur decided to help Eames out as quickly as he had? What had been the point?

Eames was still mulling it over when he dropped back into sleep.

~*

The next time Eames woke up, it was late at night and he had yet another visitor at his bedside.

"Come to say you told me so?" Eames asked, offering a weak smirk.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "What would be the point, when it's already obvious that I'm right?"

Eames hummed, amused. "Touché."

They watched each other for a long moment, not speaking. Eames finally broke the silence with a quiet, "Thank you, by the way."

"For what," the interface asked, "doing my job?"

"You could've left me down there for a while to teach me a lesson," Eames said.

"It had crossed by mind," Arthur admitted. "I didn't want to deal with all of the questions that would've raised, though."

Eames chuckled. "Then I’m glad you're someone who likes to avoid potential trouble."

Arthur smiled in return, the expression faint but still noticeable. "I've always had trouble dealing with consequences," he said.

"Same here." Eames shifted in the bed, uncomfortable. After a moment, he said, "I wanted to apologize about how our first conversation went. I didn't mean to offend you, and I honestly don't have any problems with you or anything like that." He offered a self-deprecating smile. "I just happened to put my foot in my mouth, which is something that I manage to do on a regular basis."

"Apology accepted, Mr. Eames," Arthur said, his smile widening a little and revealing dimples. _Dimples_. Christ, could the man get any lovelier?

Eames shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought. If he was tired enough to have that getting through his mental filters, then he definitely needed some sleep. Then, as if thinking about being tired had summoned it, exhaustion swept over him and his eyelids began to droop. The interface must have noticed this, because his smile faded and he took a step away from the bed.

"You should be resting," Arthur said. "I'll see you when you return to the labs."

"Wait," Eames mumbled, half asleep already. Arthur looked at him, eyebrows raised in a question. "Does that mean you'll start talk to me? I do want to get to know you…"

Arthur smiled again, briefly this time, before flickering out of sight. The last thing Eames heard before drifting off was an amused, "Go to sleep, Mr. Eames."

~*

After two days of recovery, Yusuf allowed Eames to go back to his research. Having learned his lesson, Eames decided to tone down his work, only going under once a day at half of the maximum dose. When he wasn't in the dreamscape, he worked on writing down his past progress, or took a break from his research to read and work out. Within a couple of weeks he had fallen into his new pattern and was content with how he was doing.

He was especially beginning to learn to enjoy his reading breaks, as Arthur normally took that time to visit him. They would chat for a while, exchanging information about how Eames' and the Cobbs' separate projects were going. As their conversations went on, they began to talk about more personal things, like where they had grown up and what they had been doing before they had come aboard the Inception, as well as personal opinions about any topic they could think of. They were sarcastic and teasing with one another, bickering in a familiar, non-threatening manner. If Eames didn't know any better, he would think that they were flirting. As it was, however, he was happy enough to say that he was good friends with the interface. He wasn't willing to push it any farther than that, as he didn't want to scare Arthur away for good. So Eames relaxed and enjoyed his times with Arthur as much as he could.

Then, about a month after he had first arrived, he had woken up to a dead ship. Everything was on auxiliary power, leaving the _Inception_ adrift and barely functioning. Curious about the sudden shutdown, Eames tracked Dom down and asked him about it.

"It's Arthur's rest day," Dom said, looking up from where he was writing his notes by hand. "Human interfaces need breaks, or else they overload. It also gives him a chance to walk around, use his muscles."

"Arthur's wandering around the ship?" Eames asked, startled.

"Yeah. He should be on the lower levels. Ariadne just went looking for him."

"Ah." That made sense. Over the last few weeks, Eames had noticed how close Ariadne and Arthur were. They were close friends and, according to Ariadne, had known each other before Arthur had become the _Inception_ 's interface. Of course the young assistant would seek Arthur out during this time; it gave them an opportunity to talk face to face.

Which, now that Eames thought about it, sounded like a good idea. The idea of seeing Arthur, actually _seeing_ him, and not just talking to a projected image of him, was very appealing. Saying a hasty goodbye to Dom, Eames made his way to the ship's lower levels.

He had just gotten off the lift and was striding down a corridor when he heard voices right around the corner. He stopped, straining to hear. If it sounded like a personal conversation, he would turn around and wait a while longer before trying to find Arthur again.

"C'mon, you have to see him at least once today," Ariadne said, a pleading edge to her voice. "I know he'd like to see you, and the way you two act together—"

"No."

That was Arthur's voice, but it was weaker than Eames had ever heard it—almost as if it hadn't been used in a long time. That had to be the real Arthur. Eames was about to walk up to the pair when he heard his name enter the conversation.

"What's wrong about seeing Eames? What's the worst that could happen?"

"Ariadne, it's not up for discussion. I'm not seeing him, alright?"

"But just—"

" _No_."

The firmness in Arthur's voice made something in Eames' chest tighten. He backed away from the spot he had been listening from for a few steps, before turning and hurrying back down the corridor. His mind kept echoing back that one word, in that flat, sincere tone. Arthur didn't want to see him, didn't want to meet face to face. Something about that _hurt_ in a way that Eames hadn't been expecting.

Eames stepped into the lift, lost in thought. He'd go to his room, clear his head. Maybe then the pressure in his head and heart would finally ease.

~*

The next day, everything was back online and normal. Eames was in the lab, inputting the data from his latest work—he could now change almost every detail of his features, but he couldn't put it all together into a cohesive skin—when Arthur appeared next to him. Used to his abrupt entrances, Eames didn't look up from computer screen.

"The Cobbs are trying out their hypothesis about multi-layered dreams," Arthur said.

Eames didn't say anything in reply, keeping his focus on the data in front of him. He didn't want to talk to Arthur right now; he was still hurting over the conversation he overheard yesterday. While he was aware that ignoring the interface was childish, he couldn't help it. When he was hurt, he tended to act a little immature.

The interface allowed the silence to stretch for a minute or so before sighing and shifting so that he was in Eames' line of sight. "Look," he began, "I know you heard me talking to Ariadne yesterday. It's on the ship's security camera feeds."

Eames tensed. "And?"

"And I think we need to straighten things out." Arthur's gaze flicked to the screen, and Eames' computer automatically saved his work before shutting down.

Eames straightened in his seat and glared at the interface. "That wasn't exactly nice, Arthur."

"I need your full attention for this, Mr. Eames." The man had to suppress a flinch; Arthur hadn't called him that since they had first begun talking. The interface's expression was set, and Eames had no doubt that Arthur was trying to be distant on purpose. Whatever they were about to talk about was not going to be pleasant.

"Fine, then," Eames said, leaning back in his seat. "What do you want to talk about?"

Arthur was quiet, and he shifted on his feet the slightest bit. That piqued Eames' interest. In the time he had known the interface, Arthur had never once shown signs of fidgeting. "I know," Arthur said, "that you're attracted to me."

Eames opened his mouth to deny it, but he closed it again when he caught sight of Arthur's expression. He smiled sheepishly. "How did you figure it out?"

Arthur snorted, lips quirking up into a smirk. "You weren't exactly subtle the first day we met."

"Yeah, well. Can't blame a man for noticing someone who's gorgeous."

A flush tinged the tips of Arthur's ears, but his expression sobered. "That wasn't what I wanted to talk about," he said.

"Then by all means," Eames said, "please continue."

The interface went quiet again, eyes distant, probably gathering his thoughts. "Yesterday, when I said I didn't want to see you." He sighed. "I didn't want you to see what I really look like."

"Why not?" Eames asked. He knew that he sounded hurt, but he couldn't force it out of his tone. "I thought we were… I don't know, I thought we were friends. Good friends."

"We are, Eames. But you have to understand." Arthur paused for a moment, frowning. "You know that this isn't real, right?" He gestured at himself. "This is just a designed, projected image."

"Yes, of course I know that."

"Then you should realize that I don't actually look like this. I'm…wasted away. I'm in a room, with little chance to move or exercise. I used to look like this but…not anymore."

Eames frowned at Arthur. "I don't understand why what you look like makes you not want to see me."

"I'm not stupid," Arthur snapped. "You see me like this, and all you're focused on is my face, my body—nothing else. Your interest only goes as far as what I look like. If you were to see me, the _real_ me, you'd want nothing to do with me."

Stunned to silence, all Eames could do was gape at the interface. Then irritation washed over him, replacing his surprise. "Is that really what you think of me?" he demanded. "That I'm shallow enough to only talk to you because of your _looks_?"

"Like I said: you made your intentions very clear the first day we met."

"And it never crossed your mind that I may have spent all of that time talking to you because, I don't know, I genuinely _liked_ talking to you?"

The interface blinked, caught off guard, before hardening his expression once more. "I figured that the chance of that was slim to none, Mr. Eames."

"Then you're less clever than I gave you credit for." Irritation had evolved into anger, and Eames met Arthur's arms squarely. "I talk to you because you're a brilliant man, loyal and strong and, for the most part, too clever by half. I talk to you because you're interesting, Arthur."

Surprise was evident on Arthur's face, but he made no effort to speak. Standing so that he could be at eye level with the interface, Eames said, "It may have started as an attraction that only went skin deep, but it certainly isn't that anymore."

Arthur continued to be silent, studying Eames' face but doing nothing else. With a noise of frustration, Eames turned and walked toward the lab's door.

"Wait."

Eames paused, turning back so that he could see Arthur again. The interface wasn't looking at him, but at some point right behind his left shoulder.

"I may have miscalculated," Arthur said, still not making eye contact.

"You think so?" Eames crossed his arms over his chest, not wanting to move closer, but willing to hear Arthur out. "I'm so glad you noticed."

Arthur glared at him. "It isn't like you ever said anything to me."

"And why would I?" Eames asked. "I had the sense that if I even so much as _hinted_ at wanting to be more than friends, you'd disappear and never talk to me again."

"Maybe I would've had a good reason to do that. I thought you only wanted me for my looks, Eames, and if you actually knew what I looked like, I thought _you'd_ disappear on _me_."

"And I still don't understand why my hypothetical disinterest is so distressing to you. It's not like you—" A thought froze Eames for an instant and, just like that, everything clicked into place. "Oh."

Arthur's eyes widened for a second before narrowing. "Don't."

"It does explain a lot," Eames said, not listening. "You're all nervous about me seeing the real you because you're—"

"The Cobbs' timer just went off," Arthur said abruptly. "They'll be waking up shortly, and I have to help them with whatever data they just collected." His image flickered and then disappeared.

Eames let out a short, frustrated breath. He had the urge to pace, but he also didn't want to show so much blatant agitation in front of the Cobbs, who would most likely come into the lab in a few minutes. Knowing he was done for the day, Eames stalked out of the lab and headed towards his room, his mind racing.

Arthur didn't want Eames to see him in fear that Eames would leave. There was only one reason why that fear would exist: Arthur was just as attracted to Eames as Eames was to him. Yes, it was possible that Arthur simply didn't want to lose a friend, but the interface's sudden exit said otherwise. Arthur was attracted to Eames, and was, for some reason, embarrassed by it.

Reaching his room, Eames finally felt like he had the freedom to pace. As he did, he continued to work things over in his mind. Arthur was embarrassed by his attraction, as far as Eames could tell. Or perhaps he didn't like to acknowledge a feeling he didn't believe was fully reciprocated. Now, though, Arthur knew better. Would that make him bolder, and would he talk to Eames about all of this? Or would he want to ignore it and act like nothing had changed between them? Eames sighed. Arthur may be able to ignore what had happened today, but Eames couldn't. Now that he knew that getting together with Arthur was a possibility, he wasn't willing to let it go. He wanted to pursue this, wanted Arthur to realize there was nothing wrong with them getting together. How to pursue it, however, was something he couldn't quite figure out.

Eames flopped on his bed, a headache brewing at his temples. He would have to mull this over later, when his mind managed to calm down a little.

~*

Things became stilted between Eames and Arthur after that. The interface was clearly avoiding Eames, working with the Cobbs almost exclusively and refusing to even look at Eames the entire time. Their after work conversations stopped completely. Eames, recognizing the rejection for what it was, threw himself into his work. He was making progress, and was sure that he was close to finding a way to create a full skin. All he needed to do was find the key to connecting all the changes together.

He finally got it two months after having come aboard the _Inception_. He was down in the dreamscape by himself (save for the Bulsomn who had helped to take him under), mirror in front of him as per usual, trying to become Mal. He had almost everything perfected—the shade of her hair, the shape of her mouth, the grace of her movements—but he wasn't able to piece everything together. Still, he was hoping that going through the motions might eventually help.

Eames moved to laugh like her—head tilted slightly back, hand up to lips just so—when a memory flooded him. He was watching Mal laugh again, noting not just the movement but also the sheer joy in it, the happiness that emanated from her with the motion. As he focused on the emotional impressions of the act, his form flickered in the mirror. For a split second it was Mal laughing, and not just him copying the motions. The illusion then faded out of existence as soon as Eames noticed, leaving him gaping at his own reflection.

The method was so simple that Eames was amazed that he had missed it. Simply imitating a person's movements wasn't enough to create the skin. The emotional and mental ties of each movement had to be considered, needed to be present for the skin to stick. In other words, Eames couldn't simply take on the form of another person, but also had to acquire the personality.

Thrilled that he had figured it out, he focused on trying to make Mal again. Her form once more flickered into existence, but it didn't last for longer than a few breaths. Apparently Eames didn't know her well enough to get the skin to hold. That wasn't surprising, really—after the first couple of days, he and the Cobbs had drifted apart, too interested in their separate research to interact. In order to get this to work, Eames sensed that he was going to have to use someone he knew better.

Unwillingly, his mind began to bring up the vision of dark hair and eyes, of a lithe frame and perfectly tailored suits. Eames knew the stories behind almost every feature, knew the movements by heart after seeing them every day. He felt a slight mental twist, similar to the one needed to shift the dreamscape and yet completely different. Eames' reflection shifted rapidly, changing until it was Arthur who was looking back at him.

The skin held. Eames looked down at Arthur's hands, flexing them experimentally. Looking back at the mirror, he did a small twirl, arms outstretched. He was given a three hundred and sixty degree view of the interface, perfect down to the last detail. When he was facing front once more, Eames grinned, watching as dimples appeared on Arthur's cheeks and his eyes crinkled with happiness. Marveling at seeing such an expression on Arthur's face, Eames accidentally lost his concentration and dropped the skin, becoming himself once more.

Before he could try to bring the skin back, Eames felt the familiar sensation of falling that always accompanied the Somnacin wearing off. Soon enough, he was blinking up at the ceiling as he woke up. He sat up as soon as he could and looked down at his hands. He grinned, elated.

"I did it," he murmured. He flexed his hands into fists and relaxed them once more. "I finally did it."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar form blink into existence. "You managed to create a full skin?"

Eames knew he should be upset at Arthur for virtually ignoring him for the last month, but in his excitement he couldn't care less. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"How did you manage it?" Arthur asked. "What was missing from your past attempts?"

"Apparently it didn't matter how well I copied what I observed," Eames explained. "Without getting into the personality of the other person, without knowing their thoughts and feelings and motivations, I was never going to make a skin—a forgery, really, with all the details that have to be taken into account—work. I had to know someone well enough to truly become them."

"Who did you use, then?" Arthur leaned forward the slightest bit, attentive. "Who did you become?"

Eames looked up at the interface, joy fading out into solemnity. "You," he said softly. "I forged you."

Surprised, Arthur leaned back once more, his expression wary. "Eames."

"You were the only one I could think of that I knew well enough to sufficiently copy." Eames stood and stepped closer to the interface. "I know your background, I know your personality, and I know your movements better than anyone else. I know you, Arthur."

The interface stepped back, but soon enough his back was against the wall. Leaving would be easy—he could simply turn off the hologram of his form—but he stayed where he was, watching Eames. He said the other man's name again, with an edge of warning this time around. Eames stopped advancing on Arthur a couple feet away, close enough so that he could reach out and touch, but not close enough to make it seem like he was cornering the interface.

"I know you," Eames repeated, "and I still want you. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Hell, I want you more than I originally did. All I want to do is—"

He reached out. "Don't," Arthur said, but Eames ignored him. His fingertips brushed against the interface's cheek before slipping through the hologram completely.

With a sigh, Eames dropped his hand and stepped back a little, giving Arthur more space. Arthur, however, didn't seem inclined to move. He instead laid his own hand on the spot Eames had tried to touch. His gaze was unfocused, and his expression was one of faint confusion.

"Arthur." Eames wanted the interface to say something, anything, about what had just happened, even if it ended up being "Never do that again." Instead, Arthur's eyes snapped onto his face, and the confusion on his face melted into something much more vulnerable.

"I need to," Arthur started, before swallowing. After a moment he managed to say, "I need to think about this."

Then, with a faint flicker, he was gone.

~*

A week passed, and there was no word on whatever decision Arthur had reached. The interface remained distant, but he was no longer blatantly ignoring Eames. Whenever they made eye contact, Arthur would nod in acknowledgement. It was enough to give Eames hope, but he still kept his distance with the interface. He didn't want to push Arthur, and was content to wait for him to make the first move.

One night, when Eames was reading in the lounge, Arthur appeared. He looked like he was trying to hide how nervous he actually was, but Eames could see the tension in his jaw and the way he kept on shifting his weight. Setting his book down, Eames turned so that he could give Arthur his full attention.

Arthur was quiet for a long moment, watching Eames. "Come with me," he finally said, before turning and heading for the door. His image faded as he walked out of range of the hologram projector before disappearing altogether. Eames quickly rose and followed, stepping out of the lounge and into the corridor. Arthur was waiting for him near the end of the corridor, and when he saw Eames he turned and walked around the corner. Curious, Eames continued to follow.

As Arthur led him further into the ship, Eames realized they were going to an area that he hadn't been to before. He guessed it was somewhere close to the center of the ship, but besides that he wasn't entirely sure about where he was. He was completely dependent on Arthur, who continued to give him directions from a distance. If Eames lost sight of the interface, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to find his way back.

When Eames finally caught up with Arthur, the interface was standing in front of a door. Eames gave Arthur a questioning look, but Arthur didn't say anything to explain himself. Instead, he waved his hand over the keypad next to the door. The keys on the pad pressed themselves, punching out a code before letting out a cheerful chime. The door slid open without a sound. Arthur glanced over at Eames and tilted his head, silently inviting the man to go inside.

After a moment's hesitation, Eames stepped through the door. He found himself in a room that was bare of any decorations, save for the screens and control panels that lined the walls. In the middle of the room, amidst a tangle of wires, was a man.

Realizing where he was, Eames shot a startled glance at Arthur. The interface, however, had disappeared—it was likely that he couldn't create a hologram within his own room—leaving Eames to his own devices. Nervous, Eames hesitantly stepped towards the man in the room.

It was Arthur—as if it could be anybody else. This version of him, the _real_ version of him, was pale and thin, his dark hair loose and falling into his face. He was standing, but his eyes were closed and his posture was relaxed, as if he was asleep on his feet. Wires were embedded at the nape of his neck and down his spine at regular intervals. Arthur looked vulnerable like this, in a way that tugged at Eames' heart.

"Arthur," he murmured, "you, you're—"

"I know." Arthur's voice came from every corner of the room. His actual body remained silent. "I warned you that I didn't look—"

"Lovely," Eames finished. "You look lovely, Arthur."

Eames reached out, cupping Arthur's face and tilting it up so that he could get a better look. He ran his thumb along the line of one of Arthur's cheekbone. A soft sound, almost like an unsteady breath, echoed through the room. Unable to resist, Eames leaned forward.

"Don't," Arthur admonished, voice soft. "I'd lose my concentration and we'd drop out of orbit."

Eames laughed gently and settled for merely brushing his thumb along the curve of Arthur's lower lip. He then let Arthur go, allowing the other man's head to droop back down. After one last moment to look Arthur over, Eames turned and left the room.

The interface was waiting for him outside, looking slightly apprehensive. Eames gave him a reassuring smile.

"Thank you," Eames said. He meant it. It couldn't have been an easy decision for Arthur to show this part of himself.

"As long as I didn't scare you off," Arthur said. He gave Eames a searching look. "Did I?"

Eames grinned. "Not a chance, darling."

~*

For the next several days, things settled back into their normal pace. Eames and Arthur talked to each other in the evenings again, going over work or whatever else came to mind. The only difference was that sometimes, during the brief pauses between conversations, Eames would catch Arthur giving him a fond look. It wasn't an obvious expression, and mostly showed through his eyes. Eames was still able to catch it, though, and every time he did he felt a surge of happiness. Eames was less subtle with his affection, using pet names for Arthur and, while touching wasn't possible, he lingered closer than usual to the interface's form. It was enough to make Eames content, and Arthur seemed to be happy about the situation as well.

Two weeks later Eames woke up from trying to forge his brother to find Ariadne and Arthur talking to each other. That wouldn't have alerted Eames—Ariadne and Arthur talked often while helping the Cobbs—but they were speaking in low, argumentative tones. Curious, Eames stepped closer and listened in.

"If Yusuf cleared the extra dosage, I don't understand what the problem is," Arthur said.

"The _problem_ is that they should have woken up half an hour ago," Ariadne said. "So unless you got the timer wrong—"

"You know I'm never wrong."

"Then why aren't you more worried about all of this?"

"About what?" Eames asked.

Ariadne turned to him, looking exasperated. "Dom and Mal are testing out multi-level dreaming and they should have woken up thirty minutes ago. And yes, they did clear the extra Somnacin dose they wanted to use with Yusuf," she shot a glare at Arthur, "but it should've worn off by now."

"Then why not just wake them up?" Eames asked. "That should be simple enough."

"I've tried," Arthur said. "Nothing's worked. I think they're too deep for anything to work."

"Then I think we're stuck waiting for them to wake up," Eames said, with an apologetic glance at Ariadne.

Arthur nodded in agreement. "I'll watch them," he told Ariadne. "I'll tell you when they wake up."

"Thank you," she said, and left the lab.

Eames watched her go, and then looked over at Arthur. "You're worried," he said.

"Yes," Arthur replied, his voice steady. "Ariadne's right; they should have woken up by now."

"They will soon," Eames said softly. "I'm sure of it."

Arthur smiled at him, but he quickly sobered up and glanced at the room the Cobbs were in. "You can go, too," he said. "I know forging tires you out."

Eames frowned slightly. "Will you be fine on your own?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, "I will. Go on."

Eames wanted to reach out and comfort Arthur, but he restrained himself. Instead he nodded. "You know where to find me," he said, and walked out of the lab. When he glanced back, he found Arthur watching him. The interface then walked toward the Cobbs' room and faded out of sight.

~*

"Eames."

Eames groaned, rolling over and checking the clock. It was three in the morning. He squinted blearily up at the silhouette of Arthur standing over his bed. "What is it?" he mumbled.

"Dom and Mal have woken up." Arthur hesitated, before adding, "We may have a problem."

Rubbing a hand over his face, Eames sat up. "What sort of problem?"

"It's not something I think I can fully describe. Meet us in the lab; Ariadne and Yusuf should already be there." With that, Arthur's form vanished.

Eames scrubbed the last remnants of sleep off his face and quickly got dressed, wanting to get to the lab as soon as possible. He didn't think he had been imagining the edge of nerves in Arthur's voice, and that made him nervous as well. Whatever was waiting for him wasn't going to be good.

Ariadne was standing near the lab doors, nervously glancing farther in every now and then. "Arthur got you, too?" she asked when she caught sight of Eames.

"Yeah," Eames said. "Whatever's going on must be serious."

"All I know is that Yusuf's been in the other room with Mal for almost an hour now," the young assistant said, "and Dom hasn’t moved from that spot since they went in there."

Following the direction of Ariadne's nod, Eames saw Dom standing next to the door leading to one of the side rooms. He was shifting from foot to foot, raking his hands through his hair and tugging on his shirtsleeves. There was an odd air to his movements, Eames noticed. It was as if Dom was being careful with how he moved, like he had become delicate. Or old.

Shouts erupted from the side room, startling everyone in the lab. It sounded like Mal, but her words were indistinct through the wall. A moment later the door slid open, and Yusuf backed out of the room. For a few seconds Mal's yells became clear.

"—understand! Nothing's here, nothing's _real_! We're still dream—"

The door slid shut again, cutting off Mal's words. Looking shaken, Yusuf walked over to Dom and said something in a low tone. Dom's expression sharpened for a moment and he spoke, voice turning up into a question at the end. Yusuf shook his head the slightest bit. Stunned, Dom took a step back and covered his mouth with his hand. The doctor gave him a look full of pity and made his way towards Ariadne and Eames.

"What happened?" Ariadne demanded. "What's going on with Mal?"

"It seems like Dom and Mal went down far too many levels," Yusuf explained, weary. "They arrived in a place of pure subconscious and lost themselves in it. They spent the equivalent of a lifetime down there."

Ariadne flinched, and Eames' stomach clenched. The Cobbs had only been asleep for a few hours. What was it like to live a lifetime and then wake up to find yourself young again, aged hours instead of years? How does someone adjust to that? "And Mal?" he prompted.

"There was some…disorientation upon waking up," Yusuf said. "While Dom adjusted well enough, Mal didn't. She's still convinced that she's in a dream, that she needs to wake up. I tried to explain that this was reality, but, well, you saw her reaction."

"Christ." Eames wiped his lips with a shaking hand. "That's terrible."

"You're forgetting the Bulsomn." Arthur had appeared behind Yusuf, making them all jump. "When Dom and Mal went under that far, so did the Bulsomn connecting them."

"I don't see him," Ariadne murmured, glancing around the lab. "What happened to him?"

"He went insane," Arthur said, voice flat. "The rest of his people took him back to the planet on their shuttle. There was talk of possible retribution for his affliction."

"Do the Bulsomn have the technology to attack us?" Eames asked, startled.

"Yes. And what's worse, they're probably serious. They're a very tight-knit culture. An attack on one, no matter how unintentional, could be seen as an attack on all of them."

"We could leave before they attacked," Ariadne said. "Arthur, is that possible?"

The interface tilted his head in thought. "I can move the ship, but it will have to take a couple days to prepare for something like that—we've been sedentary for a long time." He hesitated. "I'd also need Dom's permission."

"I'll talk to him," Ariadne said, and left the small group.

"I'm going to stay with Mal," Yusuf said. "I may be able to do something about her condition, but I need more data."

"I'll prep the ship for departure," Arthur told Yusuf. "Hopefully Ariadne will have talked Dom around by that point."

The doctor and the interface nodded to each other before parting ways, Yusuf going back to the other room and Arthur flickering out of sight. This left Eames standing in the middle of the lab, alone. There really was nothing he could do about the situation, he realized. Everyone else had everything covered. Shrugging, he stepped out of the lab, intent on returning to his room.

A voice stopped him in the corridor: "Eames."

Arthur was standing a few yards away. He was pale, and his jaw was clenched in what looked like irritation. "What is it?" Eames asked.

"When we're attacked—and there will be an attack—I want you to get on the shuttle as soon as you can," Arthur said. "Leave with the others."

"What about you?"

Arthur smiled, and there was a bitter edge to it. "I'll go down with the ship."

There wasn't a trace of emotion in his voice. If it weren't for Arthur's expression, Eames would have thought that the interface was completely fine with dying for the sake of the rest of the crew. Stunned, Eames' mouth worked as he tried to figure out what to say. He finally settled on the most prominent question on his mind: "Why?"

"Someone has to keep the ship in orbit for as long as possible." Arthur shrugs. "Since I'm this ship's computer, that someone will be me."

"That's—" _Wrong. Ludicrous. Not going to happen_. Eames wanted to say something to that effect, but the look on Arthur's face kept him from finishing his sentence. He nodded weakly instead, letting out a quiet, "Okay."

"I'm serious, Eames," Arthur said, locking eyes with him. "I don't want you pulling any heroics. No coming after me. Got it?"

Eames clenched his hands into fists, wanting to refuse, to argue the point, but he could tell it was a lost cause. Arthur was determined to do this the way he had set it up—to doom himself. "Fine," he muttered.

Arthur's expression softened the slightest bit at Eames' tone. "There's no other way to do this," he said. "You see that, don't you?"

"Sure," Eames snapped. "Of course I see why you have to set up a suicide mission for yourself. I'm perfectly willing to watch you die for this."

"Eames—"

"Don't. Just…don't."

He stalked off in the direction of his room, needing space. Arthur, luckily, had enough sense to leave Eames alone. Right now Eames had to figure out all of the thoughts swirling through his mind, and he couldn't do that and deal with the interface at the same time.

When he reached his room, he closed and locked the door, hoping that would be an obvious message to everyone else. Lying down on the bed, Eames tried to sort through his thoughts.

He didn't get any sleep that night.

~*

The attack came three days later.

Four Bulsomn ships boxed the _Inception_ in and opened fire, taking down her shields almost immediately. The alarm to abandon ship flashed on, and Eames scrambled down to the hangar as fast as he could. Yusuf and Ariadne were already there, both looking panicked about the situation.

"Where's Mal and Dom?" Eames asked as soon as he was close enough to be heard.

"I don't know," Ariadne said. "Dom said he was going to get Mal, and I haven't seen them since."

"And Arthur?"

The young assistant hesitated. "He can't come," she said. "He needs to keep the ship in the air—"

"At this rate there won't _be_ a ship to keep in the air." Eames thought at a furious pace before reaching a decision. "Are the hangar doors open?"

Yusuf nodded, jerking a thumb at the open doors, where only a force field was keeping the air within the ship. "That was the first thing Arthur did. The force field should keep any Bulsomn ships from getting in, but we can get out."

"Good. Get the shuttle ready for takeoff. When the ship goes onto auxiliary power, wait for ten minutes and then go."

Ariadne gave Eames an alarmed look. "But what about you?"

"Go without me if I'm not back in time." He gave a stern look to both Ariadne and Yusuf. "I mean it."

Ariadne looked frightened for him, but Yusuf nodded. "Good luck, mate," he said.

Eames nodded in return, then turned and ran out of the hangar. He took the lift up to the center of the ship and stepped out, looking at the corridors that branched off from his location. After a moment of contemplation he tilted his head towards the ceiling.

"Arthur," he said. "Arthur, I could use a little help."

The interface's hologram appeared, but it continuously flickered and fuzzed out, like a bad signal. "You promised not to," Arthur said. He sounded tired.

"I lied. So either point me in the right direction, or leave me to wander around until we both die."

Arthur seemed to consider him (it was hard to tell with the constantly shifting hologram) before finally pointing down one corridor. Eames ran down it, not even pausing to thank the interface for the help.

With Arthur leading the way, Eames made it to the central room in five minutes. Just as he caught sight of a familiar-looking door, however, the ship rocked violently, causing Eames to lose his footing and go sprawling on the floor. At the same time the lights went out. As Eames shoved himself back to standing, the auxiliary lights weakly blinked on.

"Shit." He now had ten minutes to get Arthur and return to the hangar. Sprinting down the final length of hallway, Eames stepped through the open door and into Arthur's room.

The blow to the ship had apparently jarred Arthur out of his position, because he was now stretched out on his side on the floor. Most of his wires were still in their place, but they were stretched taut, at their limit. Arthur was weakly pawing at the floor, trying to move forward and failing.

"Oh, darling," Eames breathed, before rushing over and kneeling next to the dark-haired man. After studying the situation, he said, "I'm going to unplug you, alright?"

Arthur shook his head. "No," he rasped. "It'll take too long. Just go."

"If I hadn't made it clear yet, love, I'm not exactly planning to leave without you."

Grasping the wire at the base of Arthur's spine, Eames pulled. The wire separated from its port with the faint sound of metal scraping on metal. Arthur made a small noise that almost sounded like pain, but he didn't tell Eames to stop. Eames went up Arthur's spine that way, removing wire after wire. Soon enough he was at the thickest one, located at the base of Arthur's skull.

"I've a feeling this one will hurt," he said. "Brace yourself."

After Arthur curled his hands into weak fists, Eames yanked the wire out. Arthur gasped harshly and writhed, eyes squeezed shut in obvious pain. After a few moments he finally relaxed again.

"Okay," the dark-haired man breathed, "okay. Get me out of here."

Eames was happy to oblige. He didn't even try to get Arthur to walk, and instead hefted him over his shoulder and ran back down the halls. Another tremor made Eames lurch when he was almost to the lift, but he managed to keep his footing. After that the ship continuously shook underneath him, intensifying every now and then to a shuddering jolt.

"What's going on?" Eames asked, setting Arthur on his feet in the lift.

"The ship doesn't have enough power to stay in orbit, since it's been heavily damaged and I'm gone," Arthur said. "We're going down, it seems."

Cursing, Eames picked Arthur up again as soon as the lift stopped and bolted out of the doors the moment they opened. He was in the hangar in seconds, and saw that the shuttle was still there. It looked moments away from taking off, though, so Eames didn't slow his pace across the hangar's floor.

The door on the shuttles side slid open and Ariadne leaned out. "Hurry!" she called, holding her hands out.

Eames took the invitation and handed Arthur open as soon as he could, making sure Ariadne could carry the other man's weight before fully letting go. He then pulled himself on board and slammed the door shut.

"Get us out of here," he yelled at Yusuf, who was in the pilot's seat.

"You don't have to tell me twice." With a punch of a few buttons and a nudge of the throttle, the shuttle was airborne and making its way out of the hangar.

They made it out just in time. Seconds after they left the _Inception_ , the broken ship reached the Bulsomn planet's atmosphere and began to burn. Eames watched it for a moment, solemn, before moving away from the window and bringing his focus back into the shuttle.

Ariadne was laying Arthur out on one of the shuttles beds, being mindful of his delicate state. "Dom and Mal," Arthur asked, clutching at Ariadne's sleeve, "did they…?"

"They never showed up," Ariadne murmured. "They went down with the ship."

Arthur went completely still, his hand falling limp from Ariadne's sleeve. After a few second's pause, he rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball, a clear sign that he wanted to be left alone. Ariadne gave him the space he required, stepping up to the front of the shuttle to keep Yusuf company.

"The Bulsomn aren't attacking," she said as she sat down. "Why?"

"I think they only wanted us to leave," Yusuf answered, "and since it's obvious that that's what we're doing…"

Filtering them out, Eames stepped over to Arthur's bed and took a seat next to it. He did nothing beyond that, waiting for Arthur to make the next move.

A few minutes later, Arthur broke the silence between them. "Dom and Mal are dead."

"Yes," Eames said, as gently as he could.

Arthur curled up into a tighter ball. "All because of me," he whispered.

Eames snorted. "You didn't ask for a Bulsomn to attack the ship and knock you offline. You didn't tell Dom to go after Mal."

"I saw him agree to stay, though," the other man said. "I saw them decide to go down with the ship. I could have stopped them."

"How? They loved each other too much, Arthur. They weren't going anywhere without each other and you know that."

Arthur was silent, but he had uncurled his body a little bit. He closed his eyes, and Eames couldn't tell if it was because of pain or exhaustion. Tentatively he reached out and laid light fingers against Arthur's cheek.

"You alright, love?"

The dark-haired man leaned into Eames' touch. "No." A ghost of a smile. "My head feels too small."

Eames chuckled. After being plugged into a ship's database, Arthur was sure to feel a little big within the confines of his own skull. "You'll get used to it," Eames said, brushing a thumb across Arthur's cheekbone.

Arthur reached up and covered Eames' hand with his own. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured. He squeezed Eames' hand. "I'm glad I'm here. With you."

Tilting Arthur's face up, Eames leaned forward and did what he had wanted to do the first time he had laid eyes on the real Arthur: he brushed his lips against the other man's. He pulled back after a lingering moment to give Arthur a soft smile and murmur, "So am I."

 _  
**EPILOGUE**   
_

A year after the destruction of the _Inception_ , Arthur was barely recognizable. Eames had nursed him back to health, helping him gain weight and patiently strengthening his muscles. Now Arthur looked like anyone else, save for the small, round port at the base of his skull. When he slicked back his hair, though, it was difficult to see, which pleased Arthur quite a bit. He liked blending in, liked being part of a crowd, and would do anything he could to make that possible.

Eames had gone back to lecturing, talking about the research he had done aboard the _Inception_ and talking about dreams in general. Arthur never became an interface again, content with being a data analyst for a large computer company. Both men settled into their routines quickly, until they became everyday and uneventful. It was a satisfying, albeit slightly boring, way to live.

Their relationship grew with the passing months. It probably helped that they started living together after immediately after returning to Earth, since Eames had wanted to take care of Arthur. So now, one year after the _Inception_ was attacked, they were still together and going strong.

Eames stood in the living room, watching Arthur. The younger man was sitting on the back porch, head tilted back so that he could look at the darkening sky. From this angle Eames could only see Arthur's back, and therefore couldn't see whatever expression was currently on the other man's face. After studying Arthur for another minute or so, Eames opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch.

"What are you thinking about?" Eames asked, noting the slight frown on Arthur's face.

Arthur glanced at Eames before returning his gaze to the sky. The older man sat down next to Arthur and waited for him to speak. One thing Eames had learned over the last year was that without the acceleration of being plugged into a computer, it took Arthur a longer while to gather his thoughts. He was getting better at it, though, and was responding faster now than he had been a few months ago.

"About the year," Arthur finally said. "About…the _Inception_."

The older man studied Arthur's face. "You miss them."

Arthur nodded, but said nothing beyond that. He had gotten past his mourning of Dom and Mal with Eames' help, but sometimes he would simply miss their presence in his life. Things seemed a little less exciting without the Cobbs and their experiments in dreamshare.

When he shared this thought with Eames, it made the older man smile. "Actually, that's why I came out here," Eames said. "Ariadne just called."

The younger man tilted his head, a silent prompt for Eames to continue.

"Well, it seems like our young colleague has been working with Yusuf on recreating dreamshare without the use of a third party. It seems like they just figured it out. They call it the PASIV device." Eames grinned. "They're looking for test subjects."

Arthur was silent. He could probably see where Eames was going with this, but he seemed to want Eames to say it.

"Well?" Eames asked. "Would you like to finally try out dreamshare yourself? With me?"

Arthur looked up at the sky again, thinking it through. Eames didn't pressure the other man and sat there, watching. While Eames himself was eager to try dreamshare again, he was also aware of Arthur's associations with the subject. He had only recently recovered from Dom and Mal, and Eames didn't want to unintentionally reopen that wound.

Finally, after a full five minutes, Arthur looked at Eames again. He was smiling. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, let's do it."

Laughing a little, Eames leaned forward and kissed Arthur thoroughly. "Yes, darling," he said. "Let's."


End file.
